How Much is That Doggie in the Window?
by Republik Osterreich
Summary: Based on the song. Austria disdains America because of his materialistic and childish manners. Alfred equally dislikes Roderich's passive and frugal way of approaching things. After a disastrous UN meeting, will the two change their minds? Valentine Story
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Poker Faces and Broken Masks

"Don't give me that prissy-boy attitude of yours and speak to me like a man, you coward!" The irritated blonde shouted at the aristocrat. Taking off his glasses, Roderich sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He replied calmly, "I'm not giving you any sort of attitude…"

At this, the American stood up abruptly and pointed at the Austrian, grinning darkly. "No, you're not giving me an attitude." Shrugging, he snorted, snickering. "Oh, I forgot, you didn't have an attitude to give me to begin with!" Alfred snarled, curling his hand into a fist and ready to stalk over to the disgustingly mindless pretty boy and punch some opinion into him. Sensing the malice coming from America, the Brit sitting next to him gently touched his hand, softly rebuking the impulsive youngster. "You'll never get anything out of this, you know. Sit down. You're making a fool of yourself."

Blinking, Alfred looked around at the other faces in the room. The expressions on the other nations varied between shock, disbelief, scorn, and even pity. His face coloring a deep red, the young American briskly walked out of the room, his eyes stinging with tears. This was not before, however, he caught a glimpse of the resignation on Roderich's face, he skin under his eyes tinged with a worn out purple-black. When they locked eyes together, the blonde flinches and looked down, continuing his walk of shame out of the conference felt the violet eyes of the Austrian gazing at the back of his head even as he heard the heavy doors close behind him.

Neither of them would forget the expressions on each other's face, not for a long time after.

[[Pilot chapter~ Also the shortest chapter I'm planning to write. It's an odd pairing, so I need feedback, please! Thank you for reading.]]


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: You Don't Know Me

With a dramatic sob, Alfred flung himself at the bed in his hotel room, punching the mattress with all he had. Shuddering, he curled up into a ball under the thick covers, tears if shameful embarrassment streaming down his cheeks. Scrambling for comfort, he made a blind grab for the pillow and hugged it tight to his chest. "Uhn…" Trembling, the blonde slipped into a fatigued slumber.

Time passed. IT did not stop for the sorrows of one young nation.

Alfred awoke to a knock at the door. Rubbing his blurry eyes like a child, America staggered towards the entrance. "Who ish it?" He called out, leaning on the wall with his forearm as he opened the door. "Room service, sir." A brunette bellhop stood in front of the room, he face hidden by his wide brimmed cap.

Confused and still in a tired daze, the American half tripped over his foot closer towards the door. The bellhop took a step back, giving the sleepy country some space. "I don't think I ordered anything yet…" He murmured groggily.

"Well, sir, I'm afraid this cart is for you, from the front desk, if that clears up anything…" The disoriented nation opened the door further, making way for the cart as the brunette pushed it inside his room. "Well then, sir, enjoy." The bellhop left, tapping the brim of his cap with his gloved hand curtly as he briskly walked down the carpeted hallway.

Alfred stood, staring curiously at the tray on the cart. He curled his fingers tenderly around the silken roses in the porcelain vase. "Tea…?" America smiled lazily as he picked up his phone to dial an all too familiar number. While he waited for the Brit to pick up the phone, he flipped open the tiny card on the tray with his free hand. "Wha-?" Instead of Arthur's hasty handwriting filled with mistakes and blots of ink, the card was adorned with elegant letters, a style he had never seen before in any of his correspondences. But… He remembered that flash of purple. He knew it all too well. "That guy…" He ran out of the room clutching a solitary rose in his fist, hastily pulling a nondescript sweatshirt over his head.

The barefooted American ran down the hall in pursuit of the bellhop. "Wait!" He shouted as he got ahold of the man's shoulder. "You… You belong to Austria's house, don't you?" The uniformed figure remained rooted at the place where he was stopped, looking into the hallway in front of him. "I'm afraid you are mistaken, sir."

The curt reply only enraged Alfred even more. "By God, you're just like him. You expect me to believe that half assed excuse that you have nothing to do with that bastard?" He gestured angrily, flinging his arms into the air. "Look at me when you're talking to me, you mindless, good for nothing drone!"

The man slowly turned around, an amused smile on his face. "I'm afraid I do not have the authority to verify your half assed guesses, _SIR._ It is a matter of national security, you know." He raised the brim of his cap, revealing a pair of tired violet eyes. Alfred stumbled, taking a step back. "Austria…"

Roderch snickered, a corner of his mouth curling up cruelly at the expression of astonishment on the American, one that quickly vanished when America mumbled in shock. "Why would you…"

Austria flushed, his mouth quivering slightly in irritated frustration. "Why…?" He parted his pale lips slightly as if to say something more, but stopped himself. The illusory moment of emotion dissolved behind a composed face once again. "I just wanted to check if you hadn't dies from shame yet." He put a thin smile on his face. "You looked absolutely pitiful, running out of the conference." He remarked as he nonchalantly straightened out Alfred's wrinkled sweatshirt, unfazed by the accusing glare of the American. "You seem to be perfectly alive and breathing, so I assume you do have no further need of my assistance." The American opened his mouth to spit out a sarcastic comment, but Austria held up his gloved hand, silencing him with an aristocratic air of authority. "Well then, I bid you a good day, Master Jones." He gave the blonde a curt bow before pushing his cap back on his head. He spun around on his heels and disappeared behind the thick wooden doors, pushing it open with an attitude of defiance.

To the very last moment until they parted, they failed to notice the expressions of regret on the other's face.

The words that were unsaid hung thick in the empty space between them.

[[Watch, this is going to be yet another one of my fanfics where I just keep writing, and never end… Reviews/Comments? This pairing is so… out of the blue… AMAZING]]


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Dark Encounters

America staggered down the streets of New York.

After a mere hour of St. Patrick's Day drinking, Arthur had already gotten drunk senseless, and Alfred has to send him off with Francis to their hotel, hours before the night was over. Before they parted, the Frenchman, chuckling, whispered to the young nation, who was on his way to the next bar. "Mon Cherie, what nonsense! You aren't wearing a speck of green! You'd best hurry on, lest a leprechaun plays a trick on you!"

Grinning, Alfred pushed France down the street. "Just get Lord Kirkland to his room before he gets himself into trouble. He's no fun… can't hold a decent drop of liquor, yeah?"

That was two hours ago.

America couldn't help but curse out loud when he once again found himself turning the corner to find an unfamiliar street before him. He could have sworn he wasn't drunk yet… But why was he so hopelessly lost? New York was his city, and he should know his way around better than anyone. Unless a leprechaun…

LOL NOPE. But even as he thought so, he found himself muttering to himself. "Stupid fairies…"

Crushing his pride to ask several policemen for directions, Alfred finally made it to Penn Station, walking down the street to the bar. A frazzled waitress greeted him nervously, stammering about how his usual seat was taken by a family of foreign tourists. "No point in kicking them out." He waved dismissively.

"If you don't mind sharing…" The girl asked, hesitating, "there's a gentleman who came alone."

Rolling his eyes, America considered the time he had wasted already .The night was almost over, and he might as well sit down for a drink, even in the company of another person.

"Fine." He grinned at the waitress, who brightened up and scurried ahead of him, leading him through the bustling room to the stairs. "I'm sure you'll like it, the view's fantastic." She chirped. "It's not as private as the other spot, but…" She gestured toward the corner of the balcony, where a hooded man sat, drinking a bottle of whisky. The girl walked over, quietly talking to him and batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. Alfred pondered this, wondering what kind of a person could have charmed his usual waitress beyond her wits. He eyed the intruder jealously, his eyes traveling over the block hoodie with the cutoff sleeves, the equally dark glovettes that traveled up to the elbows, and the pale arms that seemed to glint in the candlelight. How could this punk be called a 'gentleman'? He was curious… and wanted to test the stranger.

When the waitress beckoned, America walked over with a swagger, sending her off to get drinks. He stuck his hand out towards the quiet man, smiling. "I don't believe I've seen you around here before. I-"

The other man laughed darkly, as if amused. He slowly looked up at the American, removing his hood, revealing a boyish face of cold and distant beauty. Austria stared straight into the eyes of the dumbfounded America and smiled, his smoky voice muttering. "I doubt that, Alfred." He pointed towards the chair across the small table. "I'd hate to keep you standing. Sit."

As if by a command, the blonde lowered himself onto the cushion covered chair. "You seem to be determined about stalking me these days." He muttered grumpily, draping his arm around the back of his seat and gesturing at the waitress for his usual order. He leaned back and sighed. "What, you didn't get enough of a kick outta embarrassing me for the past week?" He threw his head back towards the dimly lit night sky of the city, deeply breaking in the smoke-infused air. "Fuck, you're a cruel man-" He snatched the glass of tequila from the tray offered to him. "-and that is not what I heard from the others about you."

Roderich smiled, bending forward to lean on his arm. His hood slid back. "Ja, we both seem to have hidden depths, don't we?" His eyes shone in curious amusements. "And here I was, thinking that would be able to take some pranks from bored little me…" He tut tutted sarcastically, as if he were disappointed with Alfred. "All these years staying neutral, one is bound to become restless, even me. You must understand. After all, you had some claim to that didn't you?" Crossing his legs, he leaned slightly backwards, spreading out his arms dramatically. "Ever know what it feels like to be slpit between four nations? Of course not. I never complained about it much, either." He jabbed an accusing finger at America. "You were the one that come up with the idea… did the same thing to Germany, too, didn't you?" He giggled as if delighted. "Consider it revenge, niedlich!"

Alfred ground his teeth, his expression hardening. "You're drunk. And you have the grace and poise of a hung-over whale."

Austria smirked grimly. "Drunk is just another excuse for me to tell you what I really want to say. Stop being such a spoilsport, Alfred." He lifted the bottle of liquor in salute to the blonde. "It's out night out. I was hoping for a secret rendezvous between us, anyway. Why can't we use this chance to talk, perhaps repair our relations?" He smiled smugly, as if proud of this particular suggestion. Then catching a sight of the aghast expression of the America, he cracked up uncontrollably. Gasping to catch his breath, he stood up. "I thought you'd take kindly to the thought, mind. After all, diplomacy is supposedly your thing." He turned his back to towards America, pulling on his dark hood and concealing himself once more. Roderich tipped the edge of his hood towards the waitress as he would with a hat. "Perhaps next time, then, when you stop looking like a homeless puppy?" He started walking away. "But I'm tired of being patient, Alfred. All fights must end, and I'm most anxious for you to grow up and admit that your stubborn childishness is causing us all problems." With that sharp remark, he disappeared into the crowd, his disembodied voice whispering. "Thanks for the company."

America stared at the throng of people Austria disappeared into as if entranced. After a while, he laughed bitterly and sunk back into his chair, ordering whiskey. "Seems like I got one upped this time…" He raised the bottle towards the waning dark as Austria had in silent tribute to the night's revelation. There were still things to be learned, even if the lesson came from a seemingly mindless aristocrat.

[[Leprechauns, America? Really? I have absolutely no idea where this is even going, so I'm gonna try my best to wrap things up soon, unless anyone has any requests or suggestions.

What would also be great would be motivation to write…]]


	4. Chapter 4: Pack Protocol

Chapter 4: Pack Protocol

It was the usual lively day for America in the UN conference room. By usual, he meant that France was desperately trying to get on England's good side, but was failing miserably. In fact, it was having the opposite effect, seeing that the Frenchman was offering wine to the very hung-over Brit. By lively, he meant that the former soviets and the Asian clans were having a go at each other's' throats, with Germany uselessly trying to diffuse the situation. America took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. And there was the Austrian…

"Huh?" Alfred looked again. He stared at Austria, who was standing beside Germany locked in a motherly posture of annoyance. He watched jealously as the two Germans talked to each other over the commotion. The American pursed his lips. 'Oh no. That won't do…' He startled himself with that thought. Why did he even car? He stopped himself from walking over to squeeze himself into the conversation between Ludwig and Roderich. He could not afford to be seen as an irrational, predictable brat right now.

In order to impress an aristocrat, he had to be cunning and spontaneous, and had to plan every step. 'Hook, line, and sinker!" He didn't have time to be sitting around in a stuffy room and listen to people talk. With this, he slid off the table he was sitting on, and hurried out of the room, banging the door shut on the way. He did not return for the remainder of the meeting, which left many of the nations puzzled.

.

.

.

America's absence was sorely noted for the remainder of the meeting, Austria not being an exception. Roderich couldn't help but wonder why. Perhaps he had been a little too harsh with Alfred the previous night? He paced the length of his hotel room. What a bother that would be, he though, grimacing, if he'd gone ahead and messed with America's mind. The liquor had loosened his tongue, and he spoke to carelessly yesterday. He sighed, leaning on a bureau with both of his hands.

A knock came from the window. Austria turned, baffled. His room was on the 6th floor, on a Manhattan high-rise. Who could possibly… He drew apart the heavy curtains that bordered the balcony, and looked out through the glass. There was nobody there, save for some pigeons. Perhaps the birds pecked the glass? He started to turn away, when he noticed the fogged up glass. Roderich struggled to read the messy, reversed words written across it. "Are… you… free… right now?"

He frowned and quickly unlatched the sliding doors to the balcony, stepping out into the chilly air and scattering the birds. Shivering, he wrapped his hands around himself and stepped towards the edge, craning his neck towards the street below. He laughed at himself. Of course, he must have been imagining things. He couldn't see it, but the fog on the glass must have faded by now, if it had ever existed at all. He turned up to leave, and tripped backwards, startled, at the grinning face that appeared from above. "A-Alfred?"

America swung back and forth mischievously, his legs hooked to the railings on the floor above. "So, are you?" He shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, waiting for an answer.

"I am, but…" Austria rushed to the railed of his own floor with a sharp intake of breath.

"Oh, good. How about a date, then?" The blonde beamed at him, his hair upside down and swaying in the March wind. He blinked, his azure puppy eyes glinting in excitement.

"Mein got, just come down already!" Roderich held out his arms, offering assistance to the American.

"HELL, NO! You answer first!" America laughed. "I'm gonna serenade you until you do!" He started singing at the top of his lungs. "How much is that doggie in the window? The one with the wagglely tail- How much is that doggie in the window? I do hope that doggie's for sale-"* Austria stared, appalled, his fear briefly forgotten. "And just how long are you planning to stay like that?" I refuse to-" His soon to be extensive rant was cut by the American's frantic screams. "Just say yes already, I'm slippiiiiiiiiiiing!"

"Then just come down, dummkopf!"

"Never! I have a reputation to uphold!"

"Austria gasped as Alfred's body dipped lower towards the street below. "Ja! Ja! I mean, yes!" He held out his hands towards America, who shook his head with a terrified expression and insisted. "Yes WHAT?"

Roderich huffed and yelled. "YES I'LL GO ON A DATE WITH YOU!" The brunette watched in horror as America swung his body onto the balcony and into Austria, sending the both of them tumbling backwards into the Germanic nation's room. Flopping back onto his back, the American laughed. "Man, I saw that move in a movie, but I never thought that would work!" HE reached over to hug the other man's arm. "Come on, there's a great place I know around Grand Central!" He proceeded to drag Austria up and out the door.

.

.

.

As they walked down the hotel hall, Roderich turned to as America. "How did you know I was staying here, anyway?"

"We all stay here in the same rooms for the UN stuff, you know. And it's not like I live in the city- I live down in D.C." Alfred said, shrugging as if it was a matter of fact.

The Austrian gaped at him. "You mean, you knew where my room was, AND you've beem staying in the one above me all these years?"

"Yup!" America pulled Roderich closer by the waist. "And I can sneak into your room any time now, right?" That earned him a slap on the shoulder.

Austria muttered as they got into the elevator. "Keep dreaming. It's only one date." And for being patient, Alfred earned a well-deserved hero's kiss.

[[I'm FINALLY DONE ufufufu- Never again…]]

Notes and References:

* Here's the lyrics to the rest of the song, just 'coz:

How much is that doggie in the window?  
>The one with the wagglely tail.<br>How much is that doggie in the window?  
>I do hope that doggie's for sale.<p>

I must take a trip to California,  
>And leave my poor sweetheart alone.<br>If he has a dog, he won't be lonesome,  
>And the doggie will have a good home.<p>

How much is that doggie in the window?  
>The one with the wagglely tail.<br>How much is that doggie in the window?  
>I do hope that doggie's for sale.<p>

I don't want a rabbit or a kitten,  
>I don't want a parrot that talks.<br>I don't want a bowl of little fishies,  
>'Cause you can't take a fish for a walk.<p>

How much is that doggie in the window?  
>The one with the wagglely tail.<br>How much is that doggie in the window?  
>I do hope that doggie's for sale.<p>

How much is that doggie in the window?  
>The one with the wagglely tail.<br>How much is that doggie in the window?  
>I do hope that doggie's for sale.<p> 


End file.
